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Hi Everyone,
A farming we will go, a farming we will go, Hi Ho the dairy-o a farming we will go. The dictionary describes farming as the act or process of working the ground, planting seeds, and growing edible plants; and raising animals for milk, meat and eggs. That sums it up in a nutshell—but while it can be defined in a short sentence, it takes volumes to describe it. No two farms are the same, no two farmers are the same; no two days are the same and no two years are the same. Some farmers like to stick to themselves, and other farmers like to share their experiences with others. I like to share about our life on the farm—which is why I write this journal. Sometimes though, it is more fun to share our farm with others in person. Lately we have been busy preparing for our first Farm to Table Dinner. All the tickets sold out last week—and if you were wanting to come but didn’t get to come this time then keep an eye open for the dates of when the second dinner will be. I think that all but two days last week were spent on the picnic tables and the farm tour wagon. All the picnic tables are put together, four of the five are sanded, and three of the five are stained. It is a slow process—but progress is happening. The sides are taking shape on the farm tour wagon. So often when we have done hay rides in the past we are constantly having to remind people to please keep their legs on the hay wagon—but they think that it is so much more enjoyable to hang their legs over the side. They just don’t realize that the hay wagon could end up getting too close to a fence post and there goes their knee. I did that on my horse once and the damage done was long lasting—worst pain I ever had to deal with. So we decided that the safest thing was to put pony walls all the way around the wagon with benches inside (or hay bales).
While Mom and Papa have been busy in the wood working department, I have been tending to the garden. A month ago I turned one of the garden rows in the West Tunnel into a seedbed for starting seeds. I divided the row into two foot sections and then made three or four little rows in each section and planted the seeds pretty heavy. Once they sprout and get a few inches to them then I dig them up and transplant them to another row in the garden tunnel. The week before, I transplanted 44 of the green and red, Pirat butterhead lettuces into their own garden row with proper spacing. I only touched half of the first row—and there were three rows. So on Monday I headed back out to the garden and I finished weeding a row that used to have broccoli in it. Then I marked the row with my gridder and started transplanting. Up against the fence I transplanted 16 borage plants—and I didn’t even put a dent in the borage seedling bed. Then I transplanted 31 of the Pirat lettuces and 31 of the Pablo Batavian lettuces. There was still plenty of little lettuce plants left in the seedling beds—but I had no place to put them. So I weeded under another row of broccoli (that is doing really well, so I left them to grow—I pulled up the other row of broccoli where I planted the borage and lettuces). Once the weeds were all gone and the broccoli plants trimmed up there was plenty of space for me to plant a row of lettuce in front of the broccoli—but my time was up and I had to wait until Thursday before I could return to the garden to transplant more lettuce. That row held 16 of the Pablo lettuce and 15 of the Pirat lettuce. Since they are different colors I alternated them in the row to give some beauty and charm to the long row of lettuces tucked underneath the towering broccoli plants. Still there was more lettuce to transplant—but my spaces were all full, and I think that 137 heads of lettuce is more than enough to consume and sell in a month’s time. So the rest of the seedlings I fed to the chickens—and they enjoyed them greatly.
Tuesday found me inside for most of the day. Once the cows were milked I bottled the kefir and made yogurt. I spent most of the afternoon chasing bunnies around in the house. I had two rooms left to vacuum when 3:45 rolled around and I needed to go and harvest lettuce for the Jacksonville delivery. When I got back inside I finished the vacuuming and then I had to make a batch of lip balm and start dinner. Filling those little lip balm tubes with melted oils and beeswax is no easy job! You almost have to hold your breath when you poor into the little hole and they fill up so quickly—and one extra drop can send the liquid spilling down the side of the tube. They sell tiny funnels to help you pour the liquid into the hole, but I made bigger messes using it because I could never see how full the tube was. I need an eye dropper that holds the right amount of liquid per tube. I wonder how big companies fill their lip balm tubes. Do they spill it on the outside?
Wednesday morning our friend Emily came over with her children and visited with us for a little bit while Mom and I milked the cows. I was trying to milk Emma but she was constantly having to go to the bathroom and I was constantly having to jump up from my seat and grab the poop bucket and catch her poo, wash my hands, sit back down—and have to jump up again. Emily’s nine year old daughter Amy Rose went over to her Mom and asked if she could please come and hold the poop bucket for me so that I could milk the cow. We all answered her plea with a welcome yes and Amy Rose stepped up to the plate and caught manure like a pro. I will say that they have their own milk cow so she was used to it. A little while later Steve finished his chores and came to the milking parlor to help out—which is what he does every morning. When he reached for the manure bucket that was sitting on the ground at that time—Amy Rose looked up at him and said, “I am doing that.” She was not about to turn over her job to someone else, she was having fun!
I started working in the courtyard on Thursday. It desperately needs a good weeding, and the roses and blue salvia all needed to be pruned. I had already decided about a month or two ago that I was not pruning the rose bushes back this year—but they still need all the dead branches cut out and a little lopsidedness taken care off. There were two roses that I could not make even—because the branch that stuck way off to one side was full of blooms that are fixing to open. I just couldn’t sacrifice blooms for form. As I was pruning the roses I told Mom that pruning roses was like sin—it is easy to put your arm into the rose bush, but it is very hard to get it out for the thorns grab you left and right and scratch your arms and hands all up. Sin is very easy to get into—but it can grab ahold of you and make it hard to get out of and some sins leave scars for life.
The last week of 2023 we received a batch of chicks in the mail—and believe it or not, that was eight weeks ago. So on Friday we processed the first batch of chickens of 2024. We have been out of chicken for a month, so it was good to finally restock. We got a hundred chicks, so we are processing them over a two week period. Then we will skip two weeks, and process two weeks in a row again because one batch was delayed because of a snow storm. After that we should be processing chickens every other week for the rest of the year.
I woke up Saturday morning at 6:00 and decided to go ahead and get up—even though I could have slept in until 7:00. I got myself ready for the day and then I headed over to the milk house to set up the milking equipment and bottle the kefir. I made it back inside before Papa was done cooking breakfast. I was going to head out after breakfast to wash the duck eggs—but a phone call took up that time. When I got off the phone it was time to head outside to milk the cows. Once the cows were milked Mom and I packed the Gainesville orders and I headed to the garden to harvest some heads of lettuce for the delivery. Then I spent the next few hours on the computer doing some last minute shopping for the Farm to Table Dinner. I never imagined how much was involved in putting together a farm dinner. Ideas and realities can sometimes be two different things. Idea—people come to the farm and sit down to a nice meal that a chef cooks. Reality—you need a place to eat (tables and chairs), you need something to eat on (plates: bread and butter, salad, dinner, dessert; and bowls), you need something to eat with (utensils), and you need something to serve the food on. The nice thing is that once you have all the details bought for the first dinner—the second one will be a piece of cake. The dishes came in the mail a few weeks ago—but we have been way too busy to stop and open the boxes to peek inside. So that was on my “To Do List” on Saturday. There were soup bowls and dinner plates, and then there was a 6 ½ inch plate that was supposed to be used for salad and dessert—but one look told me that those plates were only big enough for dessert and maybe a molded salad. Lettuce salad is on the menu—and I was 100% for sure that one stab into the salad would send the whole salad off the plate and onto the table. So it was back to the drawing board—the Webstaurant supply store, to find a bigger plate and quickly get it ordered so that it would arrive in time.
This coming week will be very, very busy as we finish up all the last minute details for the dinner that takes place next Saturday. Along with all the prep we will also be processing chickens and hosting company for half the week—my Aunt and Uncle are coming for a visit.
So until next month . . .
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare